


Overfamiliar

by baby_cheezit



Category: K-pop, SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, excuse to write a meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22392424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baby_cheezit/pseuds/baby_cheezit
Summary: The storm outside isn’t the only thing brewing as the words marked on Kibum’s skin finally speak themselves into existence.
Relationships: Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Taemin
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Overfamiliar

**Author's Note:**

> {Soulmate AU where the first words you say appear on your soulmates skin}

Kibum rounded the coffee shops’ sleek black counter. He tucked the collar of his black shirt over the apron against his neck. His lips were parted, warm puffs of air escaping his mouth in sharp pants, heating his numb lips, probably pale after a twenty minute near-sprint trudging through thick blankets of snow and supposedly soft snowflakes cutting against his skin – the winter coat he was wearing a fashion statement, but now wet through and dripping on a coat hanger in the back room.

“You’re late.”

Kibum glared at his co-worker, Jonghyun, anger moreso jealousy over Jonghyun getting in early to bake the rich cakes and missing the beginning of the storm. But he too could have joined the sanctuary of heat if he’d been willing to escape his first one at home. His chest still burned from running against the cold weather.

“Late at a place I own?” Kibum retorted.

He tied his apron tightly around his slim waist, dark blue strands gliding against the other like a distorted whistle. The keys on his lanyard jingled softly as the cotton apron brushed over the metal.

“Co-own!” Jonghyun cried, mouth open wide. “You left your partner to deal with the morning rush! Customers started lining up outside, it was so damn cold!”

“Doubtful.”

“Still cold. The heating takes a while to kick in. The only saving grace were the ovens. It was like a sauna for a heavenly few hours.”

Kibum shivered involuntary.

The sudden shift in temperature made his body tingle – the heat in the shop thawing his frozen body.

Behind the counter it was warmer, the two black and silver coffee machines to the right of him like radiators that offered Kibum a sanctuary of heat amidst an early December morning.

“I would have stayed there, but I was dragged back to reality by a swarm of commuters wanting their morning coffee.”

Kibum tutted, brushing his palms on his apron, the friction warming his palms.

He reached up and pinched Jonghyun’s cheek, his skin tight, jawline defined.

Jonghyun slapped his hand away, but the gesture was playful.

“Jeez, you pinch hard, be playful to your partner or I’ll file a complaint.”

Kibum blew into his cheeks.

“Poor baby, whatever will you do. I bet someone came in to give you a hand, though,” Kibum said, tone babyish.

Kibum leaned in, right hand resting on Jonghyun’s bicep, muscles firm.

The black sleeves of the otherwise plain shirt Jonghyun was wearing only reached the crease of his elbow, so fine black letters against tanned skin peaked under the soft cotton. They blended in nicely against Jonghyun’s skin, not only the mark, but also the phrase, it was nearly cheesy, but it made Kibum conscious of the humiliating phrase plastered against his almost honey toned skin.

Kibum clicked his fingers. “Mr who-the-fuck-orders-that by any chance?”

Jonghyun scowled, pushing away Kibum’s hand and sneaking under his sleeve, rubbing the words softly; almost self-conscious. He grumbled under his breath, words faint against the bustle of customers and hum of music in the background.

“You shouldn’t even be speaking to customers like that in the first place.”

“I was stressed. I feel my blood boiling at the memory. You tell me who orders fifty different orders of coffee at six am. Go to Starbucks, let them deal with it. We bought this place to build a cute aesthetically pleasing café, not a dungeon where we have to make fifty orders of coffee for sleep deprived customers.”

Jonghyun’s eyes slipped shut and Kibum nearly saw a vein popping from the memory of the day from hell.

After the fifty orders of coffee came a wave of kids on a field trip. Maybe it was their busiest day and, therefore, the most profitable to date, but with two people manning a coffee counter, one distracted and practically in tears after an hour break and heartfelt meetup with his soulmate, it was also the day Satan made its appearance.

Opening his eyes, Jonghyun glanced at his arm, Kibum killing a gentle coo in his throat before Jonghyun could use it against him later.

“At least my mark is something cute,” Jonghyun argued, fingers squeezing his arm where the soulmate mark lay under his palm. “I’ve always wondered what made you so mad. That phrase makes me tear up when I think about our meeting.”

Jonghyun sniffled.

Kibum gagged.

“Save it. Let’s remember how it wasn’t even him ordering them, Jjong. You said that to your poor unsuspecting soulmate and he has to have those words on his skin forever. Honestly, it’s insulting.”

“I apologised!” Jonghyun yelled, voice high pitched, almost like a squeak.

Kibum caught a few glances out in the seating area, but most of the customers were regulars, watching with amused expression. Kibum looked back at Jonghyun, the older male’s eyes not shifting, oblivious to the array of customers enjoying their morning coffee.

“After you started crying out of stress of work and the relief of meeting him and then you leave me to deal with _fifty_ orders.”

“I cried myself to sleep that night!”

Kibum shook his head, his layered, messy-styled brown hair bouncing against his scalp. The ends brushed glassy skin. Today was an au naturel kind of day, but even without the saviour of foundation Kibum was confident.

“Was he a cute sleep deprived customer?”

Kibum could see Jonghyun hesitate, favour licking his lips instead of answering.

“Cute that day, every other day sexy,” Jonghyun finally settled on, lips twitching into a smirk. “And maybe he did spend the morning baking with me and then maybe he gave me a hand when he realised you weren’t coming in. He works wonders with his hands – on coffee. Speaking of coffee, do you want one?”

Kibum was reminded of his dry throat, no time for breakfast this morning because guilt of sleeping in ate away at his insides, but Jonghyun didn’t need to know that.

“Double expresso.”

“Coming right up, boss.”

Kibum grinned, taking a step back to give Jonghyun room.

A quiet atmosphere lay its roots as Jonghyun set to work on the machine beside them.

He looked out into the shop and pride fizzed in his chest.

Quiet mornings were great for contemplation.

The shop was designed simply. White walls, black, glossy skirting boards almost half way up the wall, ridges deep. Pastel pink booths, accompanied by white, wood tables, almost industrial and high enough for someone standing to maintain perfect eye contact without straining. They sat in front of full-length windows whilst white seats and pastel pink tables scattered across the middle flooring, the shop itself a few hundred square feet, like a long corridor.

It was funny, the pink, but Jonghyun had an obsession – an obsession that even ran to his current hair colour.

The black shirts were a mere coincidence so Jonghyun blended into the scene, Kibum now too afraid to sleep over at Jonghyun’s house in fear of Jonghyun secretly bleaching and colouring his hair so Kibum also matched the aesthetics of the shop.

The ceiling was high, bulbs hanging from various spots: chunk and modern.

The prices were better than average, but it was a start-up and word about Jonghyun’s perfect baking skills were yet to be the talk of the town.

Kibum melted into the wall behind him. The coffee machine beside him buzzed lowly in his left ear; the notes of a saxophone and deep voices tickled his right.

Too early for that.

“I’m going to change the music. I want to hear good tunes.”

Jonghyun gasped, laying a hand over his broad chest, eyes still on the expresso machine.

“Jazz is exceptional!”

“I don’t doubt that, but it’s nine in the morning. Classical is best; helps soothe the soul. Save the jazz for lunchtime.”

Jonghyun mocked Kibum, as he slipped by Jonghyun and walked around the counter, heading to the left corner of the room where the music system was hidden.

A gentle ringing made Kibum look to the side as he passed the entrance.

Two customers.

Jonghyun’s problem.

Kibum stopped at the locker that hid the music system.

He lifted his hand and turned the nob at the front, metal screeching, worn out.

Inside the square locker, it was shallow, a few inches in the wall, just big enough to hide the ugly sound system. Above the locker, a selection of albums sat on shelves, donated by regular customers or bought cheaply.

His cat-like eyes scanned the array of albums before he pulled one off the shelf and opened it, switching the disks, Kibum taking extra time to put the old disk back where it should be because the last time he didn’t, Jonghyun made sure to take a sudden sick day in the heat of summer where smoothies were on the tip of every customers tongue.

Smoothies. Too much fruit and water and powder. The next day they were off the menu, but Jonghyun’s badgering about all the sales Kibum had singlehandedly gone through made him restore the item on the condition Jonghyun never took a sick day again.

Employing more staff would be smart, but they could barely afford a wage themselves, so it was only a dream.

Kibum sighed as he closed the locker, metal ringing shut. He turned and looked across the café, the two people in front of Jonghyun now off to the side, on their phones and chatting quietly.

The atmosphere was gentle, the murmur of the few occupants against the soft hum of music soothing.

Kibum smiled, almost skipping back to the counter.

He pulled on the sleeves of his own black shirt, long enough to come halfway down his forearm, but the elasticised cotton had stretched out the hem of the sleeves. He got back to the front of the shop and rounded Jonghyun, setting his hands on the older male’s hips as he slipped behind.

“Coffee on the side.”

“Yum,” Kibum said, picking up his mug from the side and taking a big gulp, grimacing at the taste.

He hated coffee, but he was addicted to the taste of adrenaline.

Setting the cup on the tray under the counter, he stopped at the front and set his sights on the glass doors – the foggy blizzard outside blocking Kibum’s view, making it seem like the shop was the only building around the town.

At least it was warm.

He set his hands on the counter, slightly sticky, but that was normal. Mornings were busy and Kibum was an hour late, so now it was an easy ride for an hour or so until the office workers returned for more coffee.

The sound of a bell reminded Kibum he was at work and he glanced up, lips immediately curling into a grin.

Customer service smile was natural after this long.

The customer had, presumably, his eyes on the floor, trampling snow against the mat, white ice melting instantly as it dropped.

The customer looked up, briefly meeting Kibum’s eyes, giving Kibum a chance to take in his appearance: wrapped up like a Christmas present, only the clothes were bland, almost camouflaging him against the walls.

Kibum’s smile dropped when instead of ordering, the customer diverted his gaze and walked into the shop, converses squeaking against the floor and wet spots appearing on the floor as snow fell from his thick black coat. His footsteps were heavy and he all but threw himself into the only empty booth left in the corner against the floor to ceiling window and wall, back to Kibum.

It was only then he started struggling against his coat, taking it off, Kibum able to hear grunts of discomfort as the customer awkwardly wrestled against his clothing.

Kibum put his hands on his hips, eyes burning a hole in the back of the man’s head, other customers glancing at the stranger (emphasis on strange) before returning to their conversations.

“Asshole customer on table seven,” Kibum murmured, eyes not leaving the asshole customers head until a black coat was thrown to the floor, metal clanging, ruining the zen atmosphere, said stranger releasing a long sigh before picking it up and throwing it on the booth opposite him.

“First one of the day?” Jonghyun asked, busy making, what Kibum could see, two simple lattes.

“He walked in like he owns the place. I hate people like him.”

Kibum hardened his expression further as though he were trying to hypnotise the man into returning his gaze. He leant on the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, nails gently drumming against his arms.

Jonghyun looked over at the table, a gentle huff leaving his mouth. “False alarm. It’s not an asshole, just the most awkward man to ever live.”

Kibum glanced at Jonghyun, brow raised.

“It’s Mr who-the-fuck-orders-that’s best friend.”

“And that automatically makes him not an asshole?”

Jonghyun shook his head, the chains in his ears tinkling like footsteps of a fairy. Kibum nearly choked at his comparison. Ironic really.

“He comes in all the time, but you’re always busy.”

“Well, I’m not busy now and I don’t do table service.”

“He can’t stand for too long when it’s cold out. It’s an unwritten rule between us.”

Kibum rolled his eyes. “I hate him already.”

Jonghyun gently nudged Kibum with his elbow. “Look which one of is the asshole now.”

Kibum eyed the stranger, who wasn’t making any effort to study or look at the drink’s menu, instead his attention was focused on the outside world. It was almost mesmerising, watching a complete stranger. The gentle chatter of people against a soft lull of a piano solo. Kibum felt a weight leave his shoulders, almost felt a need to see the stranger’s face, to see what he was really doing.

Eyes closed? Open and relishing in the feel of the warm atmosphere juxtaposed against the snow outside.

“Lee Taemin.”

Kibum blinked hard, the sound of Jonghyun boiling the milk dragging him back into reality. He watched Jonghyun, checking the counter for more customers, but it was the same two, focused on their phone as they waited for Jonghyun to finish them to go drink.

“Who?”

“The man you have fallen in love at first sight with.”

“Gross.”

Kibum watched Jonghyun yank his hand off the metal just under the nozzle of the steam, shaking it in the air.

“Burns,” Kibum mumbled, a spurt of laughter tumbling out of his mouth when Jonghyun side-eyed him. “I’m just advising you, wouldn’t want your boyfriend to think I torture you at work.”

“You torture me by turning off my music,” Jonghyun complained, eyes focused on the boiling milk. “You stared at Taemin for more than three seconds, which warrants the statement.”

Kibum stopped himself from looking over to the table, matching Jonghyun’s gaze and looking at the milk bubbling. The steamer was loud so Kibum waited for Jonghyun to finish before he carried on speaking, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

“One, I’m observing an ignorant human being, and two, I haven’t even seen his face.”

“Then go and have a look, I won’t stop you.” Jonghyun set the metal jug on the tray beneath the nozzle so he could tilt his head to Taemin, blue eyes moving to Kibum, the younger male looking away instantly, not daring to see the smile Jonghyun’s lips would be in.

“Table service, ‘bumie. The least you can do for being late.”

Kibum tsked, pushing himself off the wall like a child being allowed out of timeout. He tapped the counter as he walked around it, navigating through the maze of chairs to waste time before he ended up in front of the customer, Taemin’s, table.

Kibum cleared his throat, Taemin slowly looking up, wide eyes blinking slow, eyelashes fluttering against round, cheeks.

Kibum smiled. “Hello there,” he spoke, tone a little above hushed.

“General Kenobi,” Taemin mocked, the response automatic voice robotic, the man snickering at the end.

Kibum froze, eyes wide, prickling at the edges, the humid air teasing. His lips parted, suddenly itchy, probably chapped, but he’d left his lip balm at home, the warmth of his bed beating his need to walk to work in the sting of frosty weather and road rage – his cat pawing at his face, pads scratchy, yet hypnotic, lulling Kibum to sleep so he only made it in time but none of that mattered now because-

“Star Wars!” Kibum yelled, the busy café coming to a quiet halt. The classical music Kibum had put on suddenly at the edge of a cliff, note a gentle drone of customers taking over again after a few seconds of silence didn’t fulfil their need for gossip.

Taemin scrunched his face.

“Uncultured swine you are not.”

Kibum could hear the snow outside thumping against the glass. Wait. No. That was all the blood rushing to his head, heartbeat thumping loud and fast against his ear drums.

Taemin’s voice was composed, tone soft like a cushion of words Kibum wanted to rest his head on.

Late night murmurs at the dead of night under warm blankets, a fort against frigid air.

“It’s a joke, jeez. Send Jonghyun over. At least he fakes a laugh.”

Kibum forgot how to breathe. He swallowed, almost choking.

Dry. Dry. Dry.

Everything was too dry today like a desert trapped on the outskirts of Antarctica.

Taemin turned back into the booth, pulling the card menu closer to him and focusing his sights on the writing, the scrape of the laminated card snapping Kibum back into the world.

“It’s your fault this is written on me!” Kibum yelled, dropping his pad of paper on the wooden table and pulling up his sleeve and revealing the words on his skin.

“You…” Taemin trailed off.

The claws of realisation had finally dug into Taemin.

Taemin’s expression softened and it gave Kibum the chance to take in his pretty face.

His cheeks were full, like a squirrel hiding nuts, skin flushed and nose a brush of a soft rosy colour, a chill almost radiating from his body, reminding Kibum of the freezing weather outside. Taemin’s hair was silver, almost green, unkept and fluffy, strands straight and overs curled at the ends, pointing to the ceiling like ramps. At the ends, Kibum could see dead hair, fried from too much bleaching, so if Kibum were to run his fingers through it’d be like skin scraping against rubber, the sound crunchy.

Kibum tried not to react at the thought. Many a time had Jonghyun cried about cutting his hair, but the man was addicted to bleach, mostly addicted to the pastel pink hair he loved so much, but it was understandable, the bubble gum appearance suited Jonghyun to a tee.

Taemin’s dark eyes were wide, long eyelashes fluttering against eyebrows, right eyebrow cut in two, the slit messy, but it suited Taemin’s slightly chubby bust mostly broad facial structure. He also wore eyeliner, his eyes sharper, but the black was smudged at the sides, probably from the weather, so Kibum had to resist the urge to wipe it away, feel the soft skin under the pad of his thumb.

Kibum’s eyes landed on Taemin’s again and he blinked fast, Taemin unblinking, frozen like he was stuck outside in the storm, body an icicle.

“You and I, we’re soulmates,” Kibum delicately spoke, pulling his sleeve over the words on his skin and straightening his posture like a lion showing off to its pride, arm dropped to his side.

“Cool!” Taemin exclaimed, voice breathy, like he’d just woken up from a nightmare. His lips curled up into a smile and he also straightened up, almost like a puppy begging to be taken for a walk.

“Cool? You should apologise.”

“Why? You have something cool written on your skin!”

“I have an evil villains name written on my body! You have a greeting!”

Taemin narrowed his eyes, expression dropping in an instant like he’s been possessed.

“A Jedi Master who gave up his life so the balance would be restored. Don’t diss a good man.”

Kibum opened and closed his mouth, words lost in his throat.

This guy-

“Uncultured swine you are,” Taemin mocked, voice high and imitating.

“Stop talking like that.”

“Do you insult all your customers?”

“The annoying ones, yes.”

Taemin made it clear his full attention was on Kibum and Kibum’s eyes flickered to Taemin’s Adam’s apple before they focused on plump lips. Taemin tilted his head to the side, a low hum sounding from his throat before his tongue sneaked out and licked his lips… slowly.

Kibum diverted his gaze to Taemin’s forehead: safe zone.

“I had to get an actual tattoo of it,” Taemin spoke up.

He pulled his own sleeve up, forearm resting on the oak table, wrist facing the ceiling, words tattooed on his skin just above the crease of his elbow. Kibum’s eyes went to the soulmate mark and then the tattoo above it, the font practically the same, but the soulmate mark was faded, more part of his skin.

Kibum clenched his hands into fists, nails digging into his palms, stopping himself from choking Taemin and hiding the body until the looming rush hour was over.

“You ruined your soulmate mark. What if I hadn’t of said that?” Kibum demanded, gesturing to Taemin’s arm.

“Why would I say General Kenobi to anything but that?” Taemin asked, lip curled.

Kibum threw his hands in the air, turning his head, but Jonghyun was busy, a few customers in a forming a queue.

He was on his own with this one.

“You are such an idiot,” Kibum mumbled, eyes back to the man sitting. The words directed at Taemin or at himself, he didn’t know.

Taemin seemed to enjoy the words, or the start of the argument, Kibum watching as he lifted his arm off the table, sleeve still scrunched up so Kibum could make out the mark, his eyes switching between Taemin’s face and the words, trying to convince himself he wasn’t living in a dream. Kibum focused on Taemin’s palm, the fingers all curled against his palm except one.

Taemin wagged his index finger. “Ah, ah, aahh. I made it cool.”

Taemin laughed, the sound like a bubble of joy popping in the air, tiny remnants catching in Kibum’s throat. He swallowed so he didn’t erupt with laughter, but the sound was infectious, like a warm blanket, so his lips fell into a smile. He watched Taemin run his fingers through his mop of green-ish hair.

“You should get the same, it’ll be matching," Taemin decided, dropping his hand back to his lap.

“Can’t get worse, can it?” Kibum asked, his tone bratty, eyes shifting to Taemin’s face.

Taemin smiled, bangs falling over his eyes as he tilted it slightly to the side. Kibum felt his face heat up and he moved his eyes to the window, glass already steaming at the edges from heat fighting against the bite of winter outside.

Taemin coughed and Kibum shifted his gaze to the man, his eyes still wide. He bit the inside of his cheek, taking in Taemin’s unfazed expression. Kibum didn’t know Taemin personally, didn’t know what he was really thinking. Kibum gulped, chest suddenly tight as the heavy weight of reality came crashing down on him, his glass house smashed into a million pieces.

Kibum dropped his gaze to the floor, suddenly interested in the grey laminate flooring. His brows furrowed into a frown. A few needed scrubbing. Jonghyun could do that.

Jonghyun. The bane of Kibum’s existence.

But this time the mess wasn’t Jonghyun’s fault.

Fate always had it in for Kibum in one way or another.

He was happy alone, with Jonghyun and Jonghyun’s boyfriend but now…

“Should I, maybe, culture you in art?”

Kibum looked up, his chest tightening more when he saw Taemin’s eyes glinting in the lighting of the shop.

“What?”

“Star Wars. If we’re soulmates then you need to be cultured in art. I don’t want a soulmate with bad taste.” Taemin grimaced, sticking out his tongue like he’d drank a bitter coffee mixed with spoiled milk. “Just saying it makes me feel sick.”

Kibum cocked a brow. “Maybe I’m not gay.”

Taemin smiled, top row of teeth making an appearance. Squeaky clean. Everything about him was clean. Sure he looked rough, but underneath all the roughness, as Kibum started sanding the boy down with his eyes, he could only see clean lines. Flawless. Perfect. Kibum really needed to think of other things but his gay brain was in overdrive.

“I don’t care. Soulmates are like bros or partners, but we’ve just met so even if it were romantic, love at first sight doesn’t exist. At least, not right now.”

“I should be offended.”

“Why? You fell in love with me?”

“All in the span of five minutes I’ve been wanting to throttle you.”

Taemin laughed, the bubbles of joy almost suffocating Kibum. High pitched and full of life, so attractive.

Kibum dragged his teeth against his bottom lip. “You know,” he slowly began, rocking on the balls of his feet, converses squeaking at the movement, so he suddenly stopped almost afraid of making too much noise to ruin a delicate situation. “I always thought you’d be this crazy geek.”

“That’s stereotyping, you shouldn’t do that.”

“The first thing you say to me is a quote from Star Wars.”

“It’s called having a sense of humour. You don’t have one, I guess.”

“It’s called ruining my skin. You wouldn’t know about that, because I greeted you.”

Taemin’s eyes wandered to Kibum’s arm, Kibum turning slightly, almost hiding it from sight.

Taemin shook slightly, a gurgle escaping his lips instead of another spurt of laughter. He put his fingers to his lips instantly and Kibum finally allowed himself to laugh, the sound short and soft, but he felt his shoulders relax, the load lighter. Taemin slowly lowered his hand, awkwardly resting it on part of his thigh and the booth.

Kibum’s eyes went to Taemin’s hand, the man unclenching and clenching his fingers into a fist before they rested in a fist and Kibum dragged his gaze to Taemin’s face, Taemin’s eyes to the side, not meeting Kibum’s.

“You know… I always thought it’d be funny if the mark appeared at birth then I’d have, like predicted an entire series of art.”

“As long as you watched the film before this moment, you’d have said it.”

Taemin pouted, bottom lip jutted out, eyes suddenly shining in the light. Kibum felt his heart clench at the sight, like that cat in Shrek. Kibum knew the tips of his ears were bright red, he could only pray his brown hair did a good job at hiding the bright hue.

Taemin rolled his eyes. “It was a joke. Jonghyun is way better at this stuff.”

“Better at talking? He’s definitely better than you.”

Taemin shrugged. Kibum took in his face again: cheeks still flushed. Kibum sure it was because through the confident façade his heart was beating just as fast as Kibum’s was.

“Um…” Taemin trailed off, eyes wandering away from Kibum. “If you wanted to try, then I’m gay so you can ask Jonghyun for my number.” Taemin focused his eyes back on Kibum, eyes half lidded. “So we can talk.”

“And you have the inability to give it to me?”

“You’re too hot to be just a friend to me, but the gods are against me: you’re not gay.”

“I am,” Kibum blurted out, quicker than he should have, but suddenly Taemin look less liked a kicked puppy and more like a hopeful puppy staring at its soon to be adoptive parent.

Ah cute.

Too cute for Kibum’s heart.

“Then… be confident,” Taemin slowly spoke, shoulders jumping slightly as he breathed in, choking on his breath maybe.

Kibum smirked.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate by the way paid for by my new soulmate.”

Kibum locked his jaw so didn’t say anything.

His lonely days were definitely over.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been writing and editing this all week so hopefully it doesn’t feel too rushed or forced. I’ll probably come back one day but for now I’m content with it. Hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> (I hope to write a kind of prequel about Jonghyun and his mystery soulmate, but until then I’ll leave it up to your imaginations!!!)


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